Fleeting Images
by Lucere
Summary: A collection of unrelated short stories focusing primarily on Riku.
1. One: Silken Snow

**Disclaimer:** All the characters from D.N.Angel and the manga/anime itself belong to Yukiru Sugisaki. I am in no way taking credit for anything she has created, nor am I gaining profit in any way from writing this fanfiction story.

**Fleeting Images **

**Story One: Silken Snow**

**By Lucere**

"I love you."

Riku stared in disgust as Risa clung to the man's every word. She was doing it again, sighing and making dreamy faces at the 'romantic' scene displayed on the screen, complete with glittering ocean background, hazy sun, and dramatic music that made her feel as if she had swallowed vomit oozing with slime. How could her sister _like_ this stuff?

"Could you keep it down, Risa? I'm trying to study, but I can't think with all that noise."

"Yeah, sure," her sister replied vaguely, groping for one of the larger warts on the television and nudging it in one direction. The girl's sobs of joy didn't lessen.

"Risa, could you please lower it?" She glanced up from her homework again, a touch of impatience in her voice.

"Yeah, yeah." The girl's, _"Oh, John!"_ got louder. Oh great. Sappy, tear-jerking, _and_ poor acting; it was enough to make the lion shoot itself.

"Risa…" It came off as a warning.

But her sister wasn't listening anymore. She was off in moon-moon land, where everyone had soft voices (even men) and declared everything in the name of love.

Sighing, Riku rose from her seat at the desk, took a pencil and the last of her paperwork under her arm, and told her sister, "I'll be going outside." Unsurprisingly, she didn't respond, and Riku exited the room with a shake of the head. She didn't want to stay in that room any longer, not with her sister watching movies about people who didn't have anything better to do than make girls, and even some men, swoon over dramatic romances. Didn't she have better things to do, like studying for the math test that was coming up at the end of this week?

YYYYYYYY 

It was funny, really. Those three words, "I love you," had all the effect of opening doors to chambers that had always been unlocked. It wasn't as if anything changed when you said those three _magical_ words to the one you adored. It was only you thinking in your mind that something _had_ changed, that now you were left to roam the sweet green meadow beyond that had always been near.

Riku twiddled her pencil idly between her index and middle finger, gazing at where she knew was her homework but seeing only slurred words in the faint light. Her mind had gone blank after she had finished the rest of the problems; the only thing that was able to pull her out of her reverie was to contemplate this musing that had been triggered by Risa's drama. She couldn't help it either. It was something that had all of a sudden sprung on her brain, and she couldn't seem to shake it off.

The more she thought about it, the more she found it to be true. Telling someone that you love him or her doesn't change a thing between you and that person. All it does is tear down that barrier that was never there.

If you never told someone that you loved them, that did not mean you could not hug them or kiss them or speak caringly about them. If you _did_, the result would not differ. You were as free to kiss someone when you said you loved that person than when you said nothing. People only thought otherwise.

It was disgusting, really—Riku grimaced as the movie scene returned to her head—that some people actually thought that everything could be made perfect by a few words that meant absolutely nothing. So what if they had said they hated each other instead? The same shock would have been displayed, the same tears would have been produced, and the same _"Oh, John!"_ would have been cried.

If you'd said you hated the person, you could love that person more than you could ever hate them. Hypocrisy, some might declare, but you weren't a hypocrite if what you said wasn't what you _meant._

That was why she didn't like dramas, she thought with an unexplained flare of anger. They led a person to believe in something that wasn't true—that to express yourself, you had to show it through words. And if that person didn't like so and so, so and so had to get all depressed until out of no mist they find another person who meshed perfectly together with them, or died somehow in a traumatizing incident. Either the golden snake's tail coiled round its diamond-shaped head to make a tight ring, or there was no snake and no human at all.

But now she was stereotyping. Not all dramas were what she had described. And certainly it would take a lot of courage to say what you felt in words instead of actions; actions were natural to the eye and body, words were a foreign language that was learned as you grew up.

She imagined the three infamous words again. However, this time she added in emotion, truthfulness, and—above all—sincerity. The product was astounding; her mind lurched with a pleasant, breathless shock, and her heart constricted with a lifting surge of painfully sweet happiness. It would be bliss, Riku mused with her eyes still closed and her hands still fisted, if a person could ever experience such a thing in his or her lifetime.

There were some things that required words, after all, then. Not the words themselves; it was the heart that mattered. You only needed them to start communication, something to approach a person with. Actions were loud, but sometimes they were uncontrolled and could be interpreted different ways.

Words that had become so well known that they were understood in all languages, even the heart, were a different matter altogether. They could be the medium in which all your emotions were centered upon. Turn the key, say the words, and all that _feeling_, raw and pure, comes gushing out like water from a river stemmed too long. In that words were one of the most powerful weapons in the world—being the focus, which always carried with it a hint of hidden, revealed, stored, reluctant, or even guarded emotion from inside the speaker. You could tell a person from their choice of and way with words, even if their tone of voice were muted or their features were wreathed in shadows…

_"Who's there?"_ Riku growled into the night, painfully shocked out of her trance-like state. For the first time since she had arrived, she noticed the one spot where it was darker than normal. It was up ahead of her, on the other shady side of the street, and she wondered that she hadn't seen it before. She must have been off in moon-moon land, too…

"Riku-san?"

Only one person would call her such. She relaxed the tight grip on her pencil and calmed.

"Yeah. What are you doing over there, Niwa-kun?"

"I wanted to ask you a question on today's homework, but you were working on something and I didn't want to bother you."

Riku frowned. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Ever since I saw you sitting on the bench. An hour or two, I think." She could practically see the embarrassed smile on his face and picture the hand rubbing sheepishly against the side of his head.

"You idiot!" she exclaimed, shifting hurriedly to one side of the bench. An image of Daisuke standing in the same position for a couple hours, fearing to draw attention, flashed through her mind. "Your legs have probably cramped up by now! Come over here and sit down.

"You could have just said something," Riku admonished as he settled himself at her side. "I wouldn't have minded."

"I didn't want to bother you," Daisuke repeated, with the embarrassed smile she had imagined on his face.

"It wouldn't have," she responded firmly. "If you need help, just ask. Why didn't you call my house instead of walking all the way here? Not the bothering thing again, right?" she said dryly.

"No, it wasn't that. You weren't home when I phoned you. Harada-san had said you had gone off for a walk, so I came here."

Risa had actually remembered what she had said? Now that was surprising. She shook her head. "Anyway, we should probably go back home if we're going to work on homework. There's not enough light to see properly out here, so we shouldn't strain our eyes… Are your legs all right though, Niwa-kun? Will you be able to walk?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Thank you for worrying about me, Riku-san." He smiled brightly at her, and she could feel a flush worming its way to her cheeks.

"Nonsense," she scoffed, glad of the night's protection. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be standing here right now, cold and cramped. Here…lean on my arm if you have to."

They made their way to her house in silence. The door creaked lightly as they entered the building, and it took Riku a minute or two before her eyes adjusted to the sudden change in brightness. Risa padded by them as they made their way to the living room. Upon seeing Daisuke, she let out a delighted squeal and walked quickly back where she came. Her destination was unmistakable. _Run!_ Riku mouthed at him, the unique scent of Risa's food drifting to her poor nostrils, and she all but dragged the reluctant Daisuke to her worktable.

The seat and table were placed just as she had left them, so all she did was pull up another chair beside hers. They commenced their work the moment they sat down, Daisuke asking questions, Riku pointing things out and leading him towards the answer, but never telling directly. Twice she saw Risa at the corner of her eyes. Once, she was holding a tray, glancing at her and Daisuke. The second, she noticed her come back with the mentioned tray bearing cups of water instead of the doubtful smells of 'pastries'.

It was a relief to sip the cool drink. The tingle it gave as it settled down her stomach was pleasant, and the coldness helped re-sharpen her mind.

As Daisuke began to get across more problems that he understood and could solve, Riku gradually sunk back into her previous thoughts.

A medium to store emotion—that was the purpose of words. All words had definitions, but none _meant_ anything. That detachment from feeling was the perfect way to harness emotion; the meanings would affect the structure of the sentence, but it would do nothing to tarnish what was written behind the lines.

"Ah, Riku-san, I believe I'm finished. If it wouldn't bother you, could you please check my work for any mistakes?"

In answer, she carefully scanned the contents of Daisuke's paper and compared it to hers. She scowled as every so often strands of hair fell across her cheeks. A haircut would be called for soon…

"Here, use this," Daisuke said suddenly, holding out what seemed to be a cloth.

"Thanks. Could you do it for me?" She didn't even bother to glance at it as he swept her hair back into a ponytail, the very softness of the ribbon teasing the nape of her neck. Pursing her lips in concentration, she continued to study the black mass of answers before smiling slightly and announcing that she was done.

"You missed only one question, but that can be easily solved if you check over your work again."

"What did I do wrong…" he mumbled to himself, temple crinkled, two upward marks at the ends of his eyebrows facing inwards, to the center of his face. She grinned at his unwavering concentration.

In the blink of an eye, Daisuke's head shot up, causing Riku to start. Quickly, he listed what he did incorrectly and what he could do to fix it. His excitement was contagious; even though her head had begun to throb from all the questions, she eagerly assisted him whenever he got confused. A weightless light danced across her fingers, and her body felt giddy. A moment later and they were finished.

She was almost disappointed when it came for him to leave. "Did you understand all the problems? Was there anything you were unsure of? The test's tomorrow, so if there's even the slightest thing, don't be afraid to ask."

"I got everything down. Thank you, Riku-san!" His gratitude warmed her from inside out. "Good night, Riku-san!"

"Night! Remember, call if you don't understand."

Whatever answer he might have made was lost on Riku as her sister, eyes half-lidded with fatigue, appeared at the end of the hallway. Recalling the water and the way Risa had steeled herself against that box with warts, Riku called out her gratitude.

She was about to retire to the bathroom to brush her teeth, when Risa was suddenly behind her and pointing with her wide eyes at something at the back of her head. Twisting this way and that, she failed to see what had captured the girl's attention. When she still didn't say anything after a full minute had passed by, she started to get irritated. The good, excited feeling was rubbing off now.

"What is it, Risa? Do I have something on my back?"

"…When did you get a white ribbon?" her sister asked in a whisper.

She raised her eyebrows pointedly. "Why, what's wrong with a white ribbon?" (1)

"It's St. White's Day!" Risa was gaping at her as if she had been living in a painting all her life. "Didn't you know that if someone you like ties a white ribbon on you, your love will come true?"

"Only you would know about those weird things. I'm going to bed."

"Did you just call me weird?" was Risa's indignant shriek as she continued the walk to the bathroom, ignoring the rest of her sister's ranting.

Inside, Riku faced the mirror. She fingered the ribbon thoughtfully. "'Your love will come true'…huh."

It was amazing how many people actually believed those superstitions. The white ribbon had most likely _meant_ nothing. Besides, it had been an action, and actions could be interpreted in more ways than one. What were the chances that the reason behind the act was what she actually wished for?

Nevertheless…

Perhaps one day she would be able to work up enough courage, and allow the Infamous Three to pour out the feelings that threaded through her heart every day, silky as pure snow.

ZZZZZZZ

(1: "Why, what's wrong with a white ribbon?") Alliteration tends to butt in when least expected. (Sorry for the completely irrelevant note.) ;

A/N: laughs That was amazingly fun to write! It felt wonderful to have finally released some of the thoughts that had been clogging up my head. Riku's thoughts about the Infamous Three are some speculations I have been harboring ever since I read Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne. Kamikaze had really wonderful characters, but the one thing I couldn't shake out of my head was how some of them confessed, saying that they had loved that person the moment they had first laid eyes on them. (Though it sort of makes me disappointed in myself by saying this) I admit that I am a romantic at heart. But I do not believe in love at first sight. How can you possibly love someone you don't know?

Anyway, that was the main purpose of the fic, and it was only coincidence that it was about Valentine's Day when I wrote this (I finished this yesterday). Also, if you hadn't noticed already, I had based this story slightly on the St. White's Day chapter in the manga. The way that it hadn't shown anything about Riku's thoughts after the white ribbon had been tied on her had kind of disappointed me. Thus, the birth of a fanfic that is parallel to the world and day of DNAngel but is different from what had actually happened. grins I should just call this an alternate universe in the same universe.

Well, hope you all enjoyed reading, and happy belated Valentine's Day! ØØ

Lucere

(2/16/04)


	2. Two: Impulse

**Disclaimer:** All the characters from D.N.Angel and the manga/anime itself belong to Yukiru Sugisaki. I am in no way taking credit for anything she has created, nor am I gaining profit in any way from writing this fanfiction story.

**(Warning)** This story runs a parallel with the scenes in Volume 3 of the D.N.Angel manga.

**Fleeting Images **

**Story Two: Impulse**

**By Lucere**

You are lying there on the bed in the infirmary, your breath slow, your face pale. The fever has gone down a bit, and I sigh in relief. Looking at your serene expression, I marvel at the pain I had saw on you earlier. Did something happen to you that hurt you? Something wrenches at my heart, and all of a sudden it takes every ounce of my self-control to keep my breathing even.

What have you been through, I wonder studying your closed eyes, to make you seem so mature now? Your nervous look, your sheepish smile, where have they all gone? I see only gently curved eyebrows, lidded eyes, and oh so slightly upturned lips. Is that a peaceful smile on your face? Are you having a sweet dream? Will you wake up…?

Then, everything slams into me. All the feelings and emotions that I have choked down, all those memories that I have of your kindness, they rush up to me, and only one thing appears in that chaotic mess. I have to tell.

"Niwa-kun…"

I have to tell. I have to tell.

"I…"

Let me say this. I don't care about you and Risa anymore. Just please, let me say this one thing.

"I…"

I have to tell. Please, let me say this before I lose the courage. I can't stop now. I can't!

"I…like you…Niwa-kun."

There. I said it. I finally said it.

I turn around, facing the wall opposite of the bed, away from him. What am I doing? I wonder, laughing nervously. Talking to a sleeping person who couldn't even hear much less understand me. I was being stupid; there was no need for me to blurt out such ridiculous things to a sleeping person. After all, he couldn't even hear me, much less—

"Riku?"

My body freezes. Through the corner of my eye, I see. Automatically, I turn my head, and you are still there, sitting up, your red eyes as wide as mine, your cheeks flushed.

"Riku…what did you just…?"

Suddenly, I am clammy all over.

"You…you're awake…"

I lied. I had said that I didn't care about you and Risa together, but I knew that you only liked Risa. You wouldn't accept me, awkward, clumsy Riku when you could choose charming, pretty Risa. What had gotten into me?

I don't know what to do—I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do!

I didn't intend for this to happen! You were supposed to be asleep!

"No!"

I push you backward on the bed, forgetting that you had a fever only moments ago, and run towards the door. It opens on its own, and I have only a vague memory of knocking someone aside.

"Riku!"

Oh, God…

"Stay away!"

"Riku! Listen to me!"

You're running after me. Why oh _why_ did I have to open my big mouth? Panic lends me hastier steps, but you still manage to catch up to me. You have always been the quicker runner.

Your hand barely grasps mine, but I freeze as if you had yanked me. I shiver and shiver but the cold won't go away. My eyes shut as I wait for the inevitable.

"Today after school…would you like to walk home together?"

Shock crashes into me; before I realize it, I'm snapping back towards you and my mouth is launching words of its own accord.

"What? Why?"

"Ah—you don't want to…?"

"Th-That's not what I meant! Why are you asking me?"

Before you can form a coherent sentence, a group of men dressed in black suits surround you.

And then, just like that, you're taken away.

"Wh—"

The muffled cry dies in my throat. Complete and utter confusion swamps me. I stare at the place you had just been standing, unable to comprehend. Subconsciously, I rub the wrist you had so lightly grasped. The warmth is quickly dissipating, the warmth—the hope—you had given me, flitting away.

Suddenly, I had the urge to scream. I wanted to fist my hands in my hair, I wanted to curl up into a tight ball and bite my lips until they streamed with blood. I wanted to tear out the hairs on my head until every nerve burst with pain.

_Why?_

Why was it that I could never do anything to help you? Why was it that every single time something happened to you, I was unable to speak, unable to act? Why is it that I am so inadequate, so utterly _helpless?_

I stand there, breathing, clenching, wanting, wanting oh-so-badly.

In the end, it never really matters.

You're still gone.

YYYYYYY

I found you. Or rather, I think I found you. I never seem to be able to tell, whether it's you I see, or a shadow of someone else.

The doubts are dispelled, though, the moment you turn your head, and I see. There is no purple shade to your hair, only a shadow thrown by the light. Only a silhouette—nothing substantial.

Again, unexpectedly, we are launched into a run, your hand once more around my wrist. This time, you are up ahead, and I the one behind. Your warmth, despite the chilly night, is beginning to wrap itself around me yet again. I will myself to concentrate on keeping up with your pace. I don't want to fall behind.

We stop at a fountain. Try as I might, I could not refrain from huffing. It gives me a little satisfaction in seeing that you are hunched over, too.

It's strange. One moment, you're kidnapped by strangers, the next moment, you're standing across from me as if nothing had ever happened. I never know what to think.

It really is strange, and stranger is that I feel the desire to laugh. So many incredulous things have happened—the man landing near my balcony, the kidnapping, and of course, the ridiculous idea that I keep entertaining, the one where I keep seeing you with that man's hair and posture.

I do laugh, and this time, I voice my thoughts. Even though I smile nervously, I want to see your reaction. I wonder, are you overshadowed, too?

"It's me."

I jerk my head in surprise. I meet your gaze, motionless.

"If I say that I am Dark, then what would you do?"

Your tone is solemn, and your eyes never leave mine. Suddenly, I do not want to find out the answer to my questions.

"That's not possible," I say, forcing my tone to be light. Then I turn away. Your warmth has all but left, and the chill of the night is fast advancing. Another smile. Another burst of despair. My life has become all too predicable now, hasn't it? A bitter mental laugh.

I can hear your words already. _It's not possible. It's not possible for me to like you._

"I understand what you're trying to say now, Niwa-kun. Those ridiculous things I said at the infirmary…forget them." I rivet my gaze on the ground. My throat works and closes. "After all…I know that the one Niwa-kun likes is Risa."

I want to run. I want to do something other than listen to my breath and feel the weight of your silence. But my body is immobilized, and I can do nothing except stand with my arms twisted behind me. Even though I already know, I will you to say the words. Just say it, and I can be released from this paralyzing anxiety.

"That's what I felt at first…" I slowly lift my head, watching as you place a mask on your face. I see. You were always careful about hurting people, weren't you? "…but now…" My eyes widen. "…the one I like is Ri—"

A dizzying flare of sound and light shatters the sky, blocking out your last words. I raise my voice to ask you, but already, you are turning and running, your dark shirt blending with the night.

But something catches my eye. The light of the fireworks was fading as quickly as it had appeared, but not before it allowed me to see. A shade of purple, I see, right before you disappear completely from my sight.

Unexpectedly, I am filled with warmth. I close my eyes, which are fast overflowing with moisture. I breathe in, the air sharp and sweet.

You said that you were Dark. I said that could not be. You say that now, you like another. I say that cannot be.

But what I saw was a shade of purple. What I heard was a change in the way you had started "Ri—".

Could it be…that the impossible was not quite so impossible as it seemed?

I breathe in, not registering the chill, only feeling the warmth as it spread from limb to limb.

My breath catches, but, for the first time, it is not in fear or anxiety. Tears roll down my cheeks, but they are not from sorrow.

A slow smile dawns on my face, but it is not from bitterness.

ZZZZZZZ

AN: I have found that I am more motivated when I am writing short stories—hence, this collection. All stories are unrelated unless said otherwise. Most of these stories are instantaneous (which is why I am more motivated), but I hope they are enjoyed anyway. Have fun!

Lucere

(3/22/05)


	3. Three: Ashes to Ashes

**Disclaimer:** All the characters from D.N.Angel and the manga/anime itself belong to Yukiru Sugisaki. I am in no way taking credit for anything she has created, nor am I gaining profit in any way from writing this fanfiction story.

**Note:** This story is my own take on what would happen after Riku were to learn that Daisuke really was Dark. I haven't read the manga's or seen the anime's ending, so my idea on what happens is all conjecture. Other than that, this is a continuation fic, if the ending were to happen my way.

**Fleeting Images**

**Story Three: Ashes to Ashes**

**By Lucere**

She was beautiful. Men who looked once could not look away. Women who saw would narrow their eyes in envy or widen in acknowledgement. Every move she made was followed by a mass of white.

She countered those eyes with a gaze of her own. From her rich dark eyes radiated a diluted sweetness, a promise of confections and intoxicating wine. The cherry was her lips; the corners thin as stems yet rounding gently into a lush cherry stained heavily with lipstick. Makeup brushed her face with a snowy touch, though blush perched itself on top high cheekbones in sullen defiance.

It had become heavier than in earlier years. Soon, the makeup would be thick as a layer of generous cream. But would anyone ever want a taste?

As she passed through the crowd, waving cheerily at a person here, winking at a person there, I listened to her talk.

"Miss, will you take a picture with me?"

"Absolutely!" A flash. Her brilliant smile alongside the stranger's smirk froze forever on black.

"Ah, miss! Will you buy my book?"

"Depends on whether it's made of paper or dirt," her voice drifted across to where I stood, the joking tone belied by a sudden twist of disgust and revulsion. I looked to where her eyes pierced, and I closed my eyes. The man was stricken. No doubt the man was poor, for dirt clung to his clothes as lice to hair, and no doubt it was what had prompted her mockery. But, once, she would have smiled gently and told the man she would keep an eye out for the work, regardless of how much she disliked literature or his look. Now, that kindness had whittled to a dagger's point, and it would not hesitate to lash out against any soul gentle or harsh.

I opened my eyes. "But of course, if it was made of soil, you would doubtless buy it, wouldn't you?" I had promised myself that I would not speak out, but I wanted to see. I wanted to see if I could do the right thing.

Her head whipped towards my quiet voice, her autumn-brown hair a comet's streak. I could see recognition—then annoyance—widen and narrow her eyes. The cherry lips soured as she drew them together and wrinkled the perfect skin. As one the crowd swung their eyes towards me. They were angry, angry that I had marred their beautiful one.

Couldn't they see she had already been scarred?

"Only if the soil were well-toiled." Her face was still as expressive as it had been years ago; wariness made its mark in her dipping eyebrows.

"If not?"

"Why then, it would sift through my hands." The crowd tittered.

"As the ashes of a painting would?"

In my mind, I saw her hands scrunching into fists. A glance would doubtless have told me true, had there not been people between us. Nevertheless, I leveled my gaze to meet hers.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, what does it matter?" she uttered. A tiny tremble shook her, but the crowd did nothing. It saw only a thick layer of makeup and blush, after all.

"For some people, it means nothing. I know someone that has scattered ashes to the wind, forgetting that once it had been something. Or someone."

A murmur rippled over the crowd like a night's breeze. It stirred in confusion, the conversation quickly losing sense in its one-track mind. Where was their beautiful one's radiant smile? Why was she stopping to listen to this girl, this girl with plain eyes and plain face?

"She hasn't forgotten."

"But she has lost herself."

"The ashes were everything to her. What they had been." The face, the perfect white face, was marred by two thin streaks. "She sees them everywhere. In paintings. In the night, when the sky is shaded dark purple. In darkness itself. Everywhere."

The words came out as whispers, though they carried on the wind as if by magic.

I closed my eyes, and I opened them, slowly, seeing in my mind the image of a boy with red hair and twinkling eyes. "I know. Her sister sees them too."

I met her gaze—which had lowered—solidly. She had gone still, but now her face crumpled as if it turned to ashes. Five years, and still she had not let go.

"Does she?" The words were a choking sob. Motionless till now, the crowd moved as one to encircle her. There she was safe, sheltered by the attentive gestures and comforting words of the people. She did not have to think for herself; all she had to do was let herself be borne away, and she would drift and be happy. And she would be lost to me.

"Yes." I swallowed. "But her sister also remembers that those ashes made up one person alone. And those ashes are gone."

"What should she do, then? The girl?" Her plea was a thread of sound that threatened to topple all semblance of thought.

I shook, the wind chilling the sweat on my forehead to icicles. "She should stop this silly charade for attention." Fear weighed down my lips, but somehow, despite the twisting, twisting cold, I managed to continue. "Only one deserved it, and he's scattered to the wind now."

A howl sundered the air, though it came from neither one of us. The crowd swarmed around her, throwing me back as it surged as one great tide. Stumbling and falling to the ground, I saw her stricken eyes flash once.

Without hesitation, I climbed to my feet and plunged into the crowd. It snarled at me, bit at me with stinging words, clawed at me with whirling arms. Yet I bore it all, wading deeper and deeper. Like one massive, continuous wave, it yanked me backwards with so much might that I swore I would wash up on shore again, where I had begun. But I knew that if I let the current take her, she would be swept away from me, and the crowd would fill the space around her as tightly as grains of sand. So I pushed on.

I pushed and shoved until, suddenly, a hand snatched my ankle and I crashed to the stone floor with an agonized cry. Hot tears of frustration rolling off my cheeks, I spun to lunge at my assaulter. A split second before I collided with the person, I saw that the person had opened her arms wide…and a radiant smile shone on her smeared cherry lips.

We skidded across the stone floor, but all the while two hands firmly grasped my own. When we finally ground to a halt, I took a full minute to regain my breath. The two small hands never let go of mine. Slowly, once the tremors from nerves had slowed to an occasional shake, I allowed myself to look up.

Somehow, all the bruises and cuts I obtained from the crowd no longer bothered me.

Because, even though her makeup was blotched and she no longer looked immaculate, she was smiling a smile that far outshone the darkness.

Hesitating, I rasped, "Are you all right, Risa?" My throat tightened. So long, it had been so long since I called her by her true name.

She hugged me fiercely. "Yes, I will be. I'm sorry. I'll do my best to start over, I promise. Dark wasn't everything…"

"But he was something. Even if he wasn't the best of people."

She laughed shakily. "I can't get him out of my head, Riku. But, I won't…won't…" She gestured helplessly.

"I know. I believe you. Let's just start slowly, okay?"

"Okay."

I stood and helped Risa up. I was so caught up in relief that I didn't notice—not until later—that the crowd had dispersed when Risa had smiled.

ZZZZZZZ

AN: It's been a while since I wrote something and actually loved it. Parts of the story felt weak and not as imaginative as other parts, but overall, I'm pretty happy. I hope it inspired something in you, and I hope it wasn't confusion. If it was though, I'd be glad to know what parts were confusing. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. :)

Lucere

(10/19/05)


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